The Queen Wears Prada
by reglna
Summary: "What makes you think you're the right person for this position, Miss Swan?" the woman asks, flicking through the documents in the briefcase Emma handed her. The blonde opens her mouth – that's actually one of the questions she is prepared for perfectly – but the brunette doesn't even let her make a single sound. "I mean, well, you're obviously not interested in fashion."


**Disclaimer: I do not own _Once Upon a Time_, _The Devil Wears Prada _or any recognisable characters.**

**A/N: Special thanks to Katie and Jess who were so nice to beta this story.**

* * *

"Uh, the before and after section is on the first floor," the long-haired brunette sitting behind one of the mahogany desks in the lobby looks up from her paperwork to glance at Emma with poorly-hidden disgust.

"Excuse me?"

The woman sighs, standing up and walking over to the blonde with an expression saying she would rather be wiping kids' noses in some kindergarten than talking to her. She stops a few feet away from her, pointing at the floor and repeating slowly, as if talking to a retarded person. "The. Before. And. After. Section. On. The. First. Floor."

"I'm not looking for the before and after section," Emma raises her eyebrows, pointing at the folder she's holding in her hand. "I'm looking for… uh…" she glances at her hand and back up at the brunette, blushing slightly as she rubs her hand against her thigh in a vain attempt to get rid of the black ink. "Regina Mills. I'm here for a job interview."

"You're here—" the brunette seems so shocked for a second Emma actually considers grabbing her arm to hold her up in case she passes out. "That can't be happening," she whines, eyeing Emma up and down, from her red leather jacket and a white tank top down her dark skinny jeans to military boots and groaning as if she were in actual pain. She grabs the phone from her desk, completely ignoring the blonde and presses one of the buttons, actually closing her eyes this time when they once again fall on Emma's jacket.

"Are you fucking serious!?" she exclaims as soon as someone answers. "Regina will be here in ten minutes, precisely, and the first thing she sees today will be this— _whatever_ she is—I can't _believe_ you would send her here—" she takes a deep breath, clearly fighting with herself not to continue yelling while listening to whatever the person on the other end of the line has to say. "I don't _care_ how good her resume is, she doesn't even know Regina's _name_! And have you _seen_ her!?" Another five seconds pause during which the brunette's nails are scratching her thigh furiously. "Look, fine, _whatever_, I don't have time now, I'll take care of it. But you owe me big time, Belle. Big. Time," she throws the receiver and looks at Emma who was looking around awkwardly during the entire conversation.

"Uh, I know I should probably be offended but I actually don't really—"

"No, no, honey, shh, don't talk," the woman says, looking straight at Emma's face, careful not to accidentally glance at her clothes once more. "My name is Ruby and as a decent human being I have one piece of advise for you on this beautiful day. _Go_. Leave before Regina gets here, you'll find a job somewhere else, I guarantee. Or even go to the before and after section, they might take you! But don't. Stay. Here. She'll _crush_ you. Now, quick, you have five minutes to leave."

"Look, I don't know what's going on here but I'm not going anywhere," Emma answers, looking at Ruby and folding her arms on her chest. "I came here for an interview and I'll get one, it's not my problem that you think your personnel department doesn't work properly or that I don't fit here. From what I can see – and, _please_, correct me if I'm wrong - you're _not_ Regina Mills so you hardly get a say in this. I won't leave until _she_ tells me I was not accepted. I suppose here's where the candidates wait?" she asks, pointing at a leather sofa in the corner and sitting on it without waiting for an answer.

Ruby actually growls, falling back on her chair and starts waving a newspaper in front of her face as if she were indeed about to pass out. Emma just rolls her eyes at the brunette's attitude, once again looking through her briefcase to make sure everything's there.

Seven minutes pass in comparative silence – well, not counting the monotonous sound of Ruby's pen hitting the desk every three seconds and the scary buzzing of her laser-like sight (and Emma is 99% sure she hasn't just imagined it) resting on the blonde the whole time. It's only when a distant clicking of heels on the glass floor can be heard that both their heads snap up and Ruby finally takes her eyes off Emma's red leather jacket. Instead, she glances at her immaculately tidy desk, brushes away a few imaginary specks of dust and runs her hand through her carefully straightened hair, using her MacBook screen to make sure her reflection is perfect. Emma just sighs and puts away a _Regal_ issue she was flicking through without much interest, focusing on the glass entrance to the office right when the clicking stops for a second and her eyes meet two chocolate pools of utter disgust and surprise. Emma's heart starts beating a little bit faster and she tries to swallow her sudden nervousness as she studies the woman standing in the door.

Before the brunette starts walking again, Emma has time to take in enough of her perfection to realise that perhaps Ruby wasn't overreacting_ that _much when she told her she should leave. Suddenly her tank top and skinny jeans feel uncomfortably tight but she takes a deep breath and is about to push herself off the couch when she meets Ruby's gaze and sees her mouth a commanding "sit". Deciding it might be actually better if she listens to the woman this time, she stays in her position watching as the brunette throws her coat at Ruby's desk and doesn't as much as slow down on her way to her office when she asks her about her day. After a second the brunette disappears behind a dark mahogany door and Emma glances at Ruby questioningly.

"Meet Regina Mills," Ruby sighs, hanging Regina's coat carefully and then rearranging piles of documents on her desk before finally looking back at Emma. "She'll call you in a few minutes, the personnel department sent her an email with the schedule of today's interviews. Good luck," it's said with such a mockery that Emma's only choice is to roll her eyes and answer with as much snark.

"Thanks."

Trying her best to ignore the pounding of her heart, she downs a glass of water, once again going through a list of potential questions in her head. She almost manages to calm herself down – _you've never been that nervous about a stupid interview you idiot_ – when she hears two words that send her head spinning once again.

"Miss Swan?"

The blonde shoots up, re-adjusting the leather jacket on her shoulders and just grits her teeth when she hears Ruby's not-so-quiet "Not gonna help much". She glances at her sideways and shakes her head with a sigh before opening the door.

Perhaps the fact that the brunette stands up politely and shakes her hand with a professional (albeit obviously forced) smile would do more to calm her nerves if it weren't for the fact that she instantly wipes her hand on her pencil skirt before pointing at a leather chair in front of her huge desk.

"Regina Mills. Sit down," it's too quiet not to sound dangerous and Emma winces a little before following the brunette's order. It isn't until she leans back that for the first time in her life she really wishes to disappear. Her back hits the upholstery and the leather creaks awfully, causing the brunette's eyes to snap up as she glances at Emma with raised eyebrows.

"It's just—"

"What makes you think you're the right person for this position, Miss Swan?" the woman asks, flicking through the documents in the briefcase Emma handed her. The blonde opens her mouth – that's actually one of the questions she is prepared for perfectly – but the brunette doesn't even let her make a single sound. "I mean, well," Regina eyes her slowly, "You're obviously not interested in fashion. You came here dressed in something most people would be appalled to use as _pajamas_. You have no history of working for fashion magazines, well _anything_ fashion-related really, nor is fashion even _briefly _mentioned in your letter of application. In fact, it could just as well be a letter of application for anything else. But yet you're _here_, in a place that _creates _fashion, in the _Regal_'s, the most prestigious fashion magazine in the world, main office, and for some reason you want to work here. Why is that, Miss Swan?"

This time Emma double-checks the woman really is expecting an answer before she takes a deep breath and forces herself to stop playing with the hem of her tank top (that most people would be appalled to use as pajamas, apparently). "I— um, well, I love writing—"

"About fashion?"

"I worked for a few publishing houses and I spent a year on a apprenticeship for _Newsweek_."

"In the fashion column, perhaps?"

"There is no—" she starts saying before a smirk on the brunette's face tells her that – _of course_ – she _knows_ it. She sighs, scratching the back of her neck and shaking her head. "Look, it's fine. You're the boss, you obviously decided whether I'm right for this job or not before I even walked in here and there's nothing either my resume or I can say to make you change your mind. But I did have a reason to come here in the first place. I want to learn and I want to learn from the best, and I think that's the right place for it. I learn fast. I work hard and I give everything I have to what I'm doing. I may not wear designer clothes and I may not know what's the new black this season – although I do suspect it's orange – but is that really what has to define me as a potential employee? Would it kill you to just for _once_ give a chance to someone who doesn't scream Chanel the second they cross the threshold? Well, obviously, it would," she stands up, finally closing her mouth as she realises she said far more than she was going to. "I'm sorry for wasting your time. I'll see myself out."

Fine, maybe it is childish and maybe she shouldn't have said or done it but it's too late to change her mind anyway so she swirls on her heel and walks out of the office. Trying to ignore Ruby's triumphant smirk, she grabs her bag from the sofa opposite her desk and throws it over her shoulder when she hears the mahogany door open again and she glances at it just to see no one else but Regina Mills looking straight at Ruby.

"I'm going for a lunch with Jefferson. Be so nice and show Miss Swan her desk."


End file.
